


without a fight

by parkrstark



Series: SuperCrazyFamily [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fights, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Missions Gone Wrong, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Presumed Dead, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 13:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkrstark/pseuds/parkrstark
Summary: Peter loves his dads. Especially because they're Captain America and Iron Man.Peter hates his dads going on missions. Especially after they get into an argument.





	without a fight

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings that there are mentions of character deaths, but they're not true. And there are some slight implied thoughts of suicide. It's really just not wanting to go on without someone, but please be safe. 
> 
> I posting this at 3:30 am please ignore any mistakes.

Peter wasn’t one to be jealous of other kids’ parents. He’d been lucky to not have only two but six great parents that would do anything for him: first his parents, then Ben and May, and now Steve and Tony. Though now they were just Pops and Dad. Referring to them as anything else didn’t feel right. 

There was no reason to be jealous of anyone else because they didn’t have the best parents; he did. 

But sometimes, at times like this, he was insanely jealous. So jealous he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned green from envy one day. 

Because maybe they didn’t have a dad that made their lunch every day, making sure to pack their favorite snacks. And maybe they didn’t have a pops that made them a cup of tea whenever they were upset to help calm their anxiety. 

But they also didn’t have parents with a job that left them wondering if they’d come home. 

Peter did. 

Every time Dad and Pops went on a mission, they left an anxious teenager behind wondering if that was going to be the last time he saw them. He always squeezed his arms around them as tight as he could and made them promise to come home before they pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Then he’d stay up until they walked back through that door. 

He didn’t do that this time because he had been so selfish, so stupid, so immature. 

He’d let a dumb little argument stop him from getting his goodbye. He stayed in bed, staring at his wall until he heard them leave. And he stayed there all day until there was a knock on his door. It was Natasha coming to check in on him. Somehow, she managed to drag him out of his room, to the kitchen, and get him to eat the dinner she made. 

“Am I gonna get a smile tonight?” She asked. 

Peter bared his teeth in the most sarcastic grin possible for only a moment before he let it drop off his face. Then he went back to staring down at his plate as he pushed his food around. 

Nat sighed. “Peter, Tony mentioned you guys had a little fight before--.”

“I’m not a baby,” Peter interrupted her petulantly. 

“Oh, you’re really helping your case with that pout.” 

Peter glared up at her, but stopped giving her his attitude when he saw the look in her eyes. She didn’t deserve his brattiness when she wasn’t even the one that refused to let him join the mission. Hell, even the two that refused to let him tag along didn’t deserve his brattiness. He let his shoulders slump and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

She stared at him for a moment pretending to think before saying, “I’ll forgive you if you watch a movie with me.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” He really didn’t. He had stayed home alone before just fine. He might have been too young to go on the mission, but he wasn’t too young to take care of himself for a weekend. 

“No, you don’t,” Nat agreed. “But you do need a friend.” 

Peter grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue it. She was right and they both knew it. He was always anxious when Dad and Pops went on a mission, but now it was a million times worse when the last conversation they had together was an argument. 

“So, what do you say I clean up these dishes and you go get a movie started?” She gave him a small smile. Peter must have been really pathetic if Nat was offering to do the dishes. 

But regardless of the reason why Nat was being so kind to him and no matter how much pity was involved, Peter still sat with her on the couch as the movie played. He was barely paying attention, only watching the screen. 

He couldn’t enjoy himself when he was too busy worrying about what the hell his parents were going through. If something happened to them then the last thing they’d remember was Peter’s cruel words and angry glare.

His eyes started to burn at just the thought, so before the movie even hit the halfway point, Peter excused himself and went to bed. Nat had looked at him with obvious concern, but she still let him go back to his room. 

Then he laid in bed wide awake, staring up at the glow in the dark stickers Pops had put up for him. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaped from his eyes, trailing down the sides of his temples. He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back hand. 

“Peter, would you like me to alert Miss Romanoff of your distress?” FRIDAY asked softly. 

Peter wiped at his eyes frantically as if she wouldn’t be able to see he was still upset. “No. I’m fine. Don’t tell her.” But the thing was, he wasn’t fine. He was upset and he was scared and the only people that could make him feel better were in an undisclosed location hunting Hydra. 

So he stared up at the ceiling, tears streaming down into his ears until he finally fell asleep. 

 

_ “Can I come with you?” Peter asked, excitedly following Pops as he got himself ready for the mission.  _

_ “No,” Pops said without hesitation as he grabbed his boots to pull on.  _

_ Peter frowned. “Why not?”  _

_ Steve looked at him with a frown and said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Because you’re not ready?”  _

_ Peter groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m ready! I go patrolling all the time and I’m fine.” _

_ “Tony,” Pops said, lacing up his boot without looking up. “Tell your son he’s not ready for a mission like this yet.” _

_ “He’s right, kiddo,” Dad said, sounding more apologetic about it than Pops. “This is really dangerous.” _

_ “I’m not a child. I know it’s dangerous. That’s why I want to come and help you.” _

_ Pops tilted his head. “Except you  _ are _ a child. You’re our child. Which is you you can’t come help. I can’t be worrying about you when I need to worry about a mission.” _

_ Peter narrowed his eyes. “Worry about me? I’m a superhero too.” _

_ “You’re my kid first,” Pops challenged. “And as my kid, I will always worry about you. Especially when we’re trying to take down a bunch of terrorists that have no qualms with killing a child.”  _

_ Crossing his arms over his chest, Peter said, “Then it’s good I can take care of myself.”  _

_ “You’re not coming,” Pops said as he stood up straighter. “Maybe another time. After--.” _

_ “You always say that! But the truth is you’ll never let me help!” _

_ Pops continued like Peter hadn’t just interrupted him, “After you have proper training and you’re ready to join us.”  _

_ “I have enough training!” _

_ “Stopping muggers and crimes throughout Queens everynight isn't necessarily fighting Hydra, Peter.” Pops crossed his arms over his chest, matching Peter’s stance.  _

_ “What about lifting a building off of myself and crashing that plane on a beach to stop Vulture? That’s just little insignificant stuff too, huh?”  _

_ Pops flinched slightly when Peter mentioned that night. Pops hadn’t been his Pops at that point, but now he was and he hated thinking of Peter hurt. It was a low blow for Peter to use, but he wanted to see him falter in his argument. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Peter. I know what you are capable of, but I’m only trying to help situations like that from happening again.” _

_ “If you never let me out, how will be able to show you I’m ready?”  _

_ “Training,” Pops answered simply. _

_ Peter scoffed. “Whatever.”  _

_ “Don’t whatever me, Peter Benjamin,” Pops said. He sighed before softening his voice, “I’ll start training you, buddy. There’s no need to rush into anything.” _

_ “Sorry, I’d be such an inconvenience.” Peter stared down at his feet. _

_ “Peter, I didn’t--.” _

_ “No. I get it. Don’t worry. I won’t be there to slow you down.” He turned around and stormed out of the room. He heard his dads calling after him, but he ignored them. He made sure to stomp his feet extra hard and slammed door as hard as he could just so his parents knew he was upset. When he was inside his room, he laid in bed, glaring angrily at his wall until there was a soft knock as his door and someone was opening it up.  _

_ He heard his dad call out softly, “Petey, we’re heading out.”  _

_ Peter squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t move. He didn’t want to talk to either of them.  _

_ “Bubba,” Dad tried again, “You want to come say goodbye? We’re gonna be all weekend.” _

_ Peter didn’t move even as Dad started to walk into the room. He walked around his bed, leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.” He brushed his hands through his hair. “So does Pops.” He didn’t move for a moment and Peter knew he was waiting for him to crack-- which he almost did --but finally, he sighed and said, “We’ll be home soon.” Then he left the room and Peter was alone.  _

 

Peter woke up and again, he was alone. But that wasn’t what was wrong. There was something else wrong. Something  _ very  _ wrong. Wrong enough to wake him up in the dead of the night. His spidey senses were practically screaming at him.

He pushed himself out of bed and looked over at his alarm clock on his bedside table. It was a little after 3 in the morning. Peter rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked up at the ceiling when he whispered, “Hey, FRIDAY, is everything okay? Is Nat okay?”

“Miss Romanoff is currently on the phone with Mr. Barton,” FRIDAY replied. 

Peter frowned. What was she doing talking to Clint at 3 in the morning? Unless something was wrong…

Peter jumped out of bed and hurried out of his room. He ran down the hall, his bare feet silent against the floor and didn’t stop until he was just outside of the living room and he could hear Nat. He peeked around the corner and could see her standing up as she spoke to Clint through a video call. She looked stressed as she ran a hand through her hair.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Clint?” She asked and for the first in his life, he knew what Black Widow sounded like when she was scared. 

“We looked, Nat. We checked anywhere they could be hiding if they even were even able to escape. There’s nothing,” Clint said. 

“Look again,” Nat ordered. “Send a hundred more people in to search everywhere until they bring them home.” 

“Nat…” Clint said with a sigh. “I know you don’t want to think about it, but they’re gone.”

Peter’s entire world stopped spinning when he heard Clint say those words. He knew who  _ they  _ were. Iron Man and Captain America. His dad and his pops...Peter covered his mouth to stifle any sounds that were about to come out as he attempted not to burst into sobs. 

“No! Dammit, that’s not possible. You hear me? You think Tony Stark and Steve Rogers would just leave us like that? No, forget about us for a moment. You think they would leave Peter like that?”

She was right. They wouldn't. No matter how much of a brat Peter was to them, they would never leave. They knew it would break him and they would never hurt Peter like that. Never in a million years. 

“Nat, it’s not like they had a choice. The place was rigged to blow. It exploded the minute they got in there.” 

Peter’s knees crumbled underneath him and he fell to the floor, using the wall to hold his weight. He was shaking his head, denying Clint’s report. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. They weren’t dead. They couldn’t be dead. 

The rest of their conversation was lost to his ears because all he could hear was his heart pounding. Tears were streaming down his face as he started to cry. He pressed his hand tighter over his mouth, hoping it would muffle some of his sobs. 

His parents couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t. Not when Peter didn’t even say goodbye. He didn’t give them a hug. He didn’t give them a kiss. He didn’t give them anything but his attitude. 

He pulled his knees up to his chest and continued to cry, willing it all to be a nightmare. Maybe he didn’t wake up yet. He would give anything for it to be a bad dream. 

But then there was a hand on his wrist and another cupping his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Nat kneeling in front of him. Her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear a word she was saying. 

He didn’t want to hear it though. He knew she’s tell him the same bullshit they told him with his parents and with his aunt and uncle. It was going to be okay. But it wasn’t. It was never going to be  _ okay.  _

So he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get her to disappear. 

It didn’t work. 

He stayed there, wheezing through a panic and she continued to rub his arm gently and caress his cheek. Eventually, he stopped hyperventilating enough to hear her softly soothing him. “It’s okay, malen’kiy. It’s going to be okay.”

He shook his head because she was wrong. She was so wrong. He couldn’t lose them. He couldn’t live without them. He didn’t want to. “Don’t say that,” he said through his sobbing. “Don’t lie to me.” 

“Oh, Peter...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She tried to pull him into a hug, but he yanked himself away from her. “Peter,” she said in shock. 

“Go away,” he said, trying to pull away from her hold, but she refused to let him go. 

Despite his harsh tone, she didn’t go anywhere. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to leave you alone after this. I told Tony and Steve I’d watch you and that’s what I’m doing.” 

Peter’s crying started back up when she mentioned their names. “I don’t want you to watch me.” 

“Too bad,” she responded, holding him tighter.

Peter grunted and tried fighting against her. He should have easily been able to fight her off, but he couldn't now. He could barely sit up without letting himself fall over. He fought her for the next few seconds, trying to get away from her and all by himself. 

“I want them back,” he sobbed, trying to shove her away.

“I know, Peter.”

“Tell them to come home!” He yelled, even though he knew it was impossible. He smacked his hand against her shoulder, using only a fraction of his strength. 

She refused to go anywhere and eventually, he gave in. He stopped fighting her and let himself fall forward. She caught him before he could hit the ground and pulled him close to her. 

He wrapped his arms around around her and even though he hated her hug, he didn’t let go. He hated her hugs because they were as tight as Dad hugged and they weren’t as enveloping as Pops’ were. It was all wrong.

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” he said, hating himself. “I was a dick and didn’t even say goodbye.” Nat didn’t say a word to that; she only pulled him in closer. “I didn’t say I love you.” 

“Stop that,” she said. “Don’t you dare think that they didn’t know how much you loved them.”

Peter rubbed at his eyes to try and clear some of the tears. “I had some way of showing them.” 

Nat didn’t give in. “They knew you loved them endlessly and they loved you more than anything. I promise.” 

_ Loved.  _ Past tense. No more. There were no more dad sandwiches or dad kisses or movie nights or hair ruffles...there was no more of anything. It was all gone. The reason Peter was still waking up with a smile on his face were gone. 

He felt his eyes burning again and before Nat could stop him, he was shoving himself out of her arms and racing back to his room. 

“Peter, wait!” 

Peter could barely hear her shout over his sobs as he ran. He threw open his bedroom door, slammed it behind him and jumped onto his bed. He stuffed his face in a pillow and  _ screamed.  _ He screamed as loud as his lungs would let him, even as it pained his throat. 

He screamed again after taking in a quick breath. His pillow was being soaked with tears and snot, but he really didn't care. He didn't care that he was screaming so loud, it sounded like he was being killed. He didn't care that Nat was outside of his door, pounding on it to let her in. He didn't care that FRIDAY was trying to calm he down. 

He threw his pillow across the room, watching as it hit a Star Wars Lego set on his shelf. It fell to the ground and crashed into hundreds of pieces. 

Looking at the Legos on the floor only made him more upset when he remembered how Pops always made a big deal about navigating through his room like it was a minefield. He hated stepping on the little pieces, but Peter thought it was hilarious to watch him yelp and jump. 

He flopped backwards, but looking up was even worse. Those stupid stars. 

The only thing he could do was grab another pillow and squeeze I close to his chest as he shut his eyes. He wanted to block it all out. He wanted it to go away. 

Peter fell asleep like that eventually, hoping he didn't wake up. 

 

Unfortunately, he did wake up. He woke up to all of his tears and snot dried to his face. He didn't have the energy to wipe it off or even move. He laid there miserably, wondering how much longer he had to suffer through life like this. Because he was not living in this world without his dad and pops. No way. Impossible. 

Nat came in a little later to try and coax him out of bed. She left and came back with a damp cloth to wash his face, but he still didn't move.

“Peter, you need to eat.” 

“Leave me alone,” Peter grumbled.

“I brought in some toast. It's not too heavy just something to eat.”

“I'm not hungry.” 

“I don't care. You need to eat.”

Peter glared up at her. “No. What I need are my parents.”

Natasha winced as if Peter slapped her. “Pete...I'm sorry.” 

Peter huffed and rolled over to face away from her. He didn't want to see the pity on her face. “Just go.” 

“Not until you eat.” 

“You'll be waiting a while.” 

 

She did wait a while. She waited hours. But eventually, she had to leave. She still had things to take care of with the mission. Wrapping things up. 

She left and Peter still didn't move except for when he had to use the restroom once. He was straight back to bed afterwards. 

Natasha came back to check in, apologizing that she couldn't give him her full attention right now. 

Peter didn't want it. She wasn't his mother. Actually--. “So what happens now?” He asked her before she could leave.

Natasha didn't answer immediately. “What do you mean?” 

“Dad and Pops are dead. Who does the sad little orphan get sent to now?” He asked in such a careless tone. He didn't care. Wherever he was going, it wouldn't be enough. No one would ever be enough.

“Pete, we haven't even started discussing that. I'll be staying with you now...but after the services and you're a little more clear headed, we'll have a talk.” 

Peter wanted to shout at her. He wanted her to plan a funeral for three people instead of two. But she would only worry. She'd probably cry. Probably send him to a therapist. 

He didn't need any of that. 

He needed his dads. 

He needed them safe at home. 

They should be safe at home if it weren't for their stupid jobs and their stupid missions. God, he hated it. They were supposed to stay safe. They promised every time they left they they'd be safe. 

Pops even had an extra good luck charm...it was supposed to protect him. But then again, it was supposed to protect Ben too. 

Maybe it was doomed to fail or maybe it was good luck. Maybe it had the best luck, but it wasn't enough to fight the horrible luck Peter brought along. 

No one was safe around him.

He ruined everything. 

Peter cried again until he fell asleep. 

 

_ “Pops, wait!” Peter shouted, running after Pops to catch him before he left.  _

_ Pops turned around with a smile on his face. “Hey, bud,” he said, catching him in his arms. “You okay?”  _

_ Peter hugged him tight, nodding his head. It was a lie. He wasn't okay. But he'd lie for Pops. “I'm okay. Just wanted to say I love you one more time.”  _

_ Pops ruffled his hair fondly. “Love you too, bear. I'll be back before you know it.”  _

_ Peter couldn’t believe that for a certain fact. He'd been on lots of missions before and always made it home safe, but today was different. Today was different because his nightmare from last night was still haunting him.  _

_ (Pops was dead and Peter was kneeling by his body, using his bloody hands to try and stop the never ending bleeding.  _

_ It was so real.  _

_ He woke up screaming Pops’ name with tears running down his face. Pops was in his room before he could finish his screams.  _

_ Pops flipped the light on as he ran inside. “Peter. Peter,” he said as he hurried to sit next to Peter. Peter stared at him with wide eyes. “It's okay, bud. I'm here. Pops is right here.”  _

_ Pops started to run his fingers through his hair and Peter grabbed his hands with his. This felt real. Pops was alive.  _

_ “You were d-dead,” Peter whispered, not willing to take his eyes off Pops. “There was so much blood.”  _

_ Pops pulled him so close to his chest, Peter felt his heart beating. “It was just a dream, sweetie. I'm okay. I'm okay.”  _

_ Pops carried him back into his bedroom and laid him down. He refused to let go of Pops even as he got into bed himself. Dad was on the other side, hushing him softly.  _

_ Peter laid there all night long, hands fisted tightly in Pops’ t-shirt and his wide eyes staring right at him.  _

_ Pops rubbed his head and pressed a kiss to the top of it. “I'm okay, Pete. You can go to sleep.”  _

_ Peter shook his head, unable to get the image of his Pops dying out of his head.  _

_ “Alright, buddy. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”) _

_ “I have something for you. It'll keep you safe today.”  _

_ Pops’ face softened. “Oh, Pete. I know you're still shaken up after that nightmare last night. I'll be okay.”  _

_ Peter didn't want to be reminded of last night. Both because the memory of the nightmare terrified him and the fact that Peter had cried and stayed away staring at Pops all night long.  _

_ He pulled out the necklace he had in his pocket. He held it out to Pops. “This is for you.”  _

_ Pops frowned curiously, taking the necklace in his hand. He looked at the small charm on the chain.  _

_ Peter explained as he studied it. “It's a St. Michael necklace. He's the patron saint of police officers, among many other things...it belonged to my Uncle Ben.”  _

_ The confusion in Pops’ face immediately washed away. “Pete…” _

_ “I know you're not a police officer, but he also protects military and you're military, right, Captain?” He smiled as he watched Pops hold the chain delicately in his hands.  _

_ “Peter, I can't take this.”  _

_ Peter pulled his hands away, nodding his head. “Yes, you can. Please. I want you to have it. It'll keep you safe on all these missions.”  _

_ “But…” _

_ “He'd want you to have it,” Peter said, meaning every word. Pops went to church just about every Sunday. He prayed before meals, bed, and even Yankees games.  _

_ “Are you sure, Petey?” Pops asked hesitantly.  _

_ “Positive. Please.”  _

_ Pops gave him a small smile before putting it around his neck. He looked down at it, rubbing his thumb over the pendant before tucking it into his shirt. “Thank you, Peter. I'll take extra good care of it. I promise.”  _

_ “Even though you have that,” Peter said, “please be careful still. Come home.”  _

_ Pops stepped forward taking Peter’s cheeks in his hands. He looked down at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Of course, I will, Peter.”  _

_ “If you don't, you'll break Dad’s heart. And remember what I said to you when you asked me if you could marry him? I said if you broke his heart, you'd be in big trouble. So...you better come home.”  _

_ Pops kissed his forehead again. “I'm coming home, Peter. I promise I will always come home to you. You're my boy.”  _

 

“Peter, please open the door,” Nat said, pounding on the door. “Someone is on the phone for you.”

“Go away,” Peter said, just loud enough for her to hear. He had FRIDAY lock the door of his bedroom and he planned to keep it that way.  

“Peter, come on. Let me in.” She started knocking again. 

“Leave me alone!” He shouted at the door. He didn't care that it had been a while since he'd left his bed. He never planned on leaving it again. 

“Peter, just come out here and talk to--.”

“No!” 

He could hear her grunt in frustration on the other end before shouting back, “Fine!” Then she was gone. 

Peter huffed even though no one could hear his frustration. His dads were always the ones that came in when he was upset and refused to leave until he was less upset. Peter didn't even need to tell either of them he was upset; they just knew he needed comfort and they gave it to him. 

No one could ever replace them. 

So no one was coming in here to try and make him smile. 

He pulled his blanket over his head and decided he was going to spend the rest of his life here. And the only people that could ever get him to smile again...were gone. 

 

He laid there until his eyes grew too heavy to keep open. They closed before too long and he didn't open them again.

Not even when the sound of someone opening his bedroom door and sneaking inside woke him up. 

He guessed it was Nat. FRIDAY probably unlocked the door finally for her to come in. It had been hours, maybe days since he had eaten something last. His stomach refused to let him forget that, but he didn't care. His hunger was the least important thing to worry about right now. 

“Go away,” he grumbled, hoping his voice wasn't too muffled through the blanket. “I don't want your food.” 

“I don't have any food, but how about a hug?”

Peter froze at the sound of that voice. That wasn't Nat, that was...no, but that was impossible! 

“Come on. I know you're upset, but something tells me a Dad sandwich will make everything better. It always does.” 

As impossible as it was, that was him. That was Pops. He shot up immediately, throwing the blanket off of him, only getting slightly tangled before he was free. 

Pops was there, still in his uniform. His face was just as bloodied as the rest of him. There was a trail of blood going down his temple and his skin was covered in dirt and bruises.  Peter looked over at Dad, who was holding him up. 

He looked bruised, but he wasn't nearly as hurt as Pops was. He was in his underclothes for the Iron Man suit. 

“Pops-- Dad... what--? Am I dreaming?”  _ Please say no. Please say no.  _

“You're not dreaming, Petey,” Dad said. 

Peter couldn't just believe his words. He needed to  _ know.  _ He threw himself forward and wrapped one arm around Pops and one around Dad. 

Pops gasped in pain, but still wrapped a secure arm around Peter. Peter tried pulling away so he stopped hurting him, but Pops only held him tighter. “Don't you dare go anywhere. Please just let me hold you.” 

Peter could hear the tears in his voice and that was all he needed to start crying himself. Dad pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Peter held onto them for a little bit longer before pulling away only slightly. he looked at Pops angrily. “You lied!” He yelled, tears pouring down his cheeks. “You said you'd always come home and you didn't! You lied to me!”

Pops hushed him gently, cupping his cheek. “I'm home. I came home. I'm here.” 

“I thought you were dead!” Peter sobbed. 

“I'm sorry, Pete. We got stuck and lost communication. We only just got back and we came to you as soon as we could.” 

“Pops is right,” Dad told him. “He's supposed to be in medbay right now and he came running here first. To come see you.” 

“I thought I lost you,” Peter whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought you were both gone forever.”

“We came home. We're home now,” Dad reassured him. 

Peter was relieved that they were home. It was the best thing that could ever happen to him, but that didn't take away the hours he spent terrified without them. He was afraid to ever let them out of his sight again. 

“I can't lose you,” Peter cried, shaking his head. “I can't lose you.”

“You didn't lose us.”

But one day he would. Eventually, he was going to lose both of them. The day it came, he wouldn't be ready. Even if the day came years later. He would never be ready. 

Especially now. Especially when the last thing he would have said to them were cruel words in an argument. 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said before you left. I thought that was the last thing I said to you and I would never get to apolo--.”

“Stop,” Pops said, his voice low. “Peter. I thought I was going to die. Beat, stabbed, and lost...I really thought that was it. And my biggest regret was you living the rest of your life thinking I’m not always 100% proud of you. Because I am. Your my boy and I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't want you to. Because that's my job. I always do everything in life to protect you.”

Peter could see the sheen of sweat of his face and the paleness of his skin. He was not looking good, but he was still here making sure Peter was okay.

Peter couldn't help but smile at him and press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Pops.” He turned to Dad. “I love you too, Dad. But what do you say we get Pops some help?” 

Dad sighed heavily. “Thank God. Thought I'd never convince him.” 

They each took a side of Pops to start helping him limp out of the room and down the hallway. They passed by Nat, who was watching them with a smirk. 

“Next time I tell you someone is on the phone for you, you better listen so he doesn't worry the entire trip back and then stumble up to your room instead of going to the medbay like he so desperately needs.”

Peter glanced back to watch Dad worry about how Pops was doing. He smiled at Nat and said, “Deal. But don't worry, I don't plan on letting them out of my sight any time soon.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You know that St. Michael necklace? That's a surprise tool that will help us later :)


End file.
